Forget the baking heat and the blinding sunlight -- that
Ditto the smog watch in southern Ontario and the thread
count in your neighbour's swimsuit -- those are but pulmonary
and visceral distractions.
Summer, it says here, is all about sounds.
Some are relentlessly urban: the roar of a lawnmower; the
dreadful whoooomph! of $17-worth of steak turning to charcoal when
you finally manage to light the propane barbecue; the pile-driving
bass of guys cruising with more car than cranium.
Still others are pleasing, if not downright pastoral: the buzz
and whistle of a red-winged blackbird; the chirrup of a
field cricket; the scrape and splash of paddle on gunnel
But none says summer like the keening of a cicada
-- surely nature's most deprived lovers.
Cicadas are large (thumb-sized and bigger) hard-bodied flies that put
in an appearance more often audio than visual during the
Adult Cicadas spend between three to 17 years underground in the
dirt, has risen into the light and air and freedom
of the summer day to find a mate in the
few weeks that it has left to live.